Mirage of the Truth
by Wrongful Vanity
Summary: The truth about Mirage; her powers, her past, her destiny, her relationship with Syndrome (shuddering ew), how she met Edna, and her hopes for the future
1. In Deep

here it is: Mirage.  the beautiful temptress, the mysterious super... the _severly_ underappreciated character.  I mean, Jeeze!  she deosn't even have an action figure! _Edna_ has an action figure!  _And _she doesn't have a page on the twelve month calander! ::hangs head:: it is sad indeed.

* * *

    

 "Please! There are children aboard!"

    I looked up with a start. Everything froze. The crackling of the intercom, my mind, even Mr. Incredible was silent with shock for a millisecond.

    'Children' I thought. 'No. No! This isn't what I wanted. How did I get in this deep?' I glanced back at Mr. Incredible just in time to see him let out a piteous roar of pain, and struggle all the more violently against his bonds. It was clear then; those children were his own flesh and blood, and that woman was his wife. I hadn't realized what he had been so unthinkingly uprooted from; a family, someone that loved him enough to travel halfway across the world to save him. In short, everything I had ever wanted. And what did I have? A twenty-six year old child "Syndrome." Good lord.

    I had never quite figured out how he had discovered my existence. Most likely the same way the government did, whose methods were just as obscure.

X

    When the government decided it no longer wanted super heroes saving the day it didn't mean that super powers simply stopped manifesting themselves. When mine appeared, I was eight years old. Supers were still saving lives, and I had a good many mentors to look up to. I wished so much to be like them, and my wishes were granted: I discovered that I had the ability to create illusions.

    I could convince anyone that what I made them think they were seeing, smelling, or feeling, was real. I could convince machines that my illusions were real as well. The vacuum cleaner for example, the cheap one that my mother bought second hand at the salvation army, the only on we could afford; I could make it think it was sucking up an array of thumbtacks spread on the floor. I was thrilled, my mother was not. But there was a catch; I could not convince myself of my own illusions. I could see, hear, feel my own illusions, but I could never convince myself that they were real; I knew that in a pinch, my own illusions couldn't possibly save my life, and I knew this could be a problem.

    Very soon after I discovered the existence of my powers, my mother sat me down and we had a serious discussion.

    "Anzhelika," I looked at my hands, childishly certain that I was in trouble, though for what reason I did not know. I just knew that she never used my full name unless I was in trouble. She continued speaking in Russian, "my little Lika," she said finally using my nickname "you are everything I have, all our family is back home, and your father is somewhere... better." There was a moment's silence in which my beloved mother regained her composure. "That is why I must ask you not to use your powers in the presence of others," I looked up sharply.

    "How do you know...?" I asked in Russian. My mother smiled warmly at me and tucked a silvery lock of my hair behind my ear.

    "I always knew, Lika. From the moment you were born, I knew you were special, and that isn't just my motherly pride speaking. I knew because your grandmother told me the child I carried in my womb was going to have powers unlike anything. She told me that in this family, every third woman born is not just special, but extraordinary, that you would be that girl. But most importantly, I knew because just minutes into your life, you looked at me and smiled."

    I gazed wonderingly at this woman and smiled.  This woman who had bravely smuggled me from a war-torn country into the US, losing her husband in the process, and leaving her health on the first train.

    Upon arriving at our long-awaited destination, she struggled against her constant ailments, and difficulty finding work. The money she had sewn into the seams of our clothing was enough to hold us over for a while, but she needed work to support me, and her English was so poor, and thickly accented, that it was more difficult than it ought to have been. I admired her strength in that she held her head up high even in a society that looked down their noses at single mothers. I gazed at her, and I knew I loved her more than anything in the world.

    I promised to never use my powers in public, and gave her a kiss on the forehead before scurrying into the one bed we shared.

    The reason for my mother's concern became obvious to me over the next few months. One couldn't walk thirty paces without hearing whispers about "those damn supers." These cruel remarks did not go over my head, though I was a mere child and I began to fear for myself, willing the powers I had so desperately longed for, to go away. My mother continued to convince me that my powers were special, and that I would be perfectly safe; and that as long as no one suspected anything, I need not be afraid for my safety. I trusted her words, and believed her comfort was sincere, and ceased my fear.

    However while my fear of normal humans dwindled, my fear of starving to death grew. My mother and I were frail creatures by curse of genetics, but starvation only made our natural thinness disgusting and skeletal. I hated going to school, because the girls would taunt me shamelessly about my fragile appearance. I would sometimes make large illusion spiders crawl up and down some of the meaner girls' arms. I didn't do this often, but when I did, it was always the same. I would smile as they screamed, and the teacher would check their temperatures, and send them to the health office, and no one was the wiser. I of course felt guilty afterwards, but never enough to apologize, or even regret my actions.

    My life continued in this manner for a few years. I continued to develop my powers on my own, and my mother continued to scrounge from job to job, barely making enough for us to eat. One day though, our lives changed. I was ten years old, in fifth grade and my mother had just lost her most recent job. She was in a barely concealed state of panic, wondering where on earth she would find work, and where we would go if we were evicted, as the landlords had been recently threatening to do.

    We were having a rare moment of peace in between interviews and were quietly sitting on a park bench, eating bologna. My feet were tucked up under me and I was leaning on my mother's shoulder, munching slowly on the rare and divine food on my palate. The wind was rustling the leaves of the trees, and a strange, beautiful music seemed to waft through the silence to my waiting ears. I was completely at peace with the world, and glad to be alive. A loud nasally voice interrupted my serenity.

    "My _my_..." it said loudly, my mother and I both looked at the source of the voice. He was a fat balding man with a bad comb over, and a greasy suit. "Look what we have here," he said, still looking at us, "an angel, and a cherub. Are you mother and daughter?" We didn't respond, not that he left any time for us to speak. "This is surely one of my best finds... mumble mumble...gain a little weight of course mumble... but your both absolutely gorgeous!  Just ravishing!  I've never seen such a lovely little girl... and your hair." I didn't like him. The way he looked at my mother and smiled his weaselly little grin at me... but he still wasn't finished speaking, "oh! Silly me!" he said, "I haven't introduced myself! My name is Richard Lewd. I'm a talent scout for Celestial Starz agency" My mother finally got over the shock of the man, and stood to greet him like a civil person.

    "My name is Tatiyana Verunya, and this is my daughter, Anzhelika." I muttered my hello incoherently.

    "Gods!" he said, at hearing my mother's accent "and you're foreign! I _like_ that, it adds certain exotic edge... have you ever considered modeling?"

    "M- modeling?" My mother asked uncertainly.

    "_Yes!"_ He said enthusiastically "Modeling! You two would make a perfect team, such innocence, such... _naivety_." My mother looked at her feet uncertainly. My mother was beautiful. Even though she appeared to have aged many years since arriving on this shore, she had retained almost all of her youthful beauty. She knew all this, and she knew what modeling was, but didn't think it was right for her, or me.

    Richard Lewd saw the uncertainty on her face and, determined to have his prize, finally spoke. "Of course," he said, "you could easily make a career out of it...earn a modest amount of money." He mumbled the words almost to himself, but it was obvious to me that he wanted us to hear. My mother looked up quickly, eyes wide and Richard knew he had won: Money was something she couldn't turn dow, not with the life of her child at stake.

    He smiled widely showing all of his platinum and gold teeth. "Here," he said, extending his hand to my mother, "come with me" I saw my mother gaze at his palm uncertainly, her strong pride bending as she lifted her hand towards his outstretched one. I wanted to scream at her not to do it, that he was bad, I could feel it! But I didn't, and she took his hand proudly and without fear.

It was thus that little red riding hood was led astray by the wolf.

* * *

so... what do you think?  If you think I should continue it, I will.  even if you don't think I should... I will.  oh, I decided that she was Russian.  I couldn't put my finger on what her accent was, but then I realized it was a little similar to my Oma's, so... yeah.  oh, and pronunciation of those names:  

Anzhelika, is pronounced: ahn-zheh-LEE-kah (the emphasis is on the "lee")  and Tatiyana, I think you can figure out.

(doesn't Mirage just _seem_ like an Anzhelika?) (and Verunya means something like _hope,_or _ faith,_or_  trust..._)


	2. Henry Richardson

wow! I am so surprised at how many people really like this story, thanks to everyone that reviewd! **Beautiful mind**: heh heh, yeah he's a creep. **Nella**: go me! **WaffleCat**: continuing! **Plasma Bomb**: wow, thank you, alot. I read your profile and, you are really cool, the word needs more cynics like you! **Anonomous, Base 2, Sword of the King, lady shelina Raven, Daiselle**: thank you! thank you! thank you! **midnightmoon**: aah! updating now! don't hurt me! **Blackfire 18:** I like her alot too, I thought she needed more respect, and, oh shoot, you're right... she does have green eyes... sshhhdon't tell ayone! **Pitbulllady**: all your points are really right!and the accent confused me too, I thought french for awhile, like you, but decided on Russian because I know more about the culture and stuff. **Secret of Tetra**: ::blush:: thanks (your name by the way... that wouldn't happen to be a certain legond of Zelda Tetra.. now would it?) **Dream out loud 9**: I KNOW! it wasn't even a "_moment_" moment! it was just a comforting moment of joy! **NewfoundGlory** **Fan**: cool, maybe I'll email you sometime.

* * *

"I'm _back,_ ladies!" Richard Lewd grinned toothily at the women in the opening office. They all just popped their gum and lazily continued to read their cheap magazines and penny dreadfuls.

"Did you get me the coffee I asked for?" one of them troubled to say. Richard looked around guiltily but smiled all the wider, his brow glistening under the hideous fluorescent lights.

"Well, no." He conceded guiltily, the woman scowled and went back to her book, A Time to Love, by Ima Nass. "But!" he said quickly for fear of losing his already non-existent audience, "look at what-" he laughed nervously at his mistake, "excuse me, I mean _who,_ look at who I _did_ find, ladies and... ladies, I'd like to introduce you America's next models: Ta-"

"Oh Rich, you didn't bring in another pretty girl wanting to be a star... again. Your girls always wimp out right in the beginning. Besides, today isn't a good day, the Boss..." she looked around and lowered her voice, "the boss _isn't_ in a good mood today."

"Don't worry so much, these girls will knock your socks off. Tatiyana, Anzhelina, you can come in now." I looked up at the back of my mother's head and glared.

"I'm not going in there." I whispered in Russian. "He said my name wrong." My mother whirled on me unexpectedly.

"Anzhelika," she whispered venomously, "you will go in there, and you will make a good impression, just see if you don't." she paused, glaring at me, "This is our _last chance_." I could see her eyes glistening with tears. I was stunned by the suddenness of the attack, and seeing the tears in my strong, beautiful mother's eyes brought the tears stinging to my own. My mother took hold of my arm, and physically pushed me through the door into the inhospitable greeting office beyond. Holding her head up high, she followed after me.

The ladies by now had given up interest in Lewd's latest mystery-girls and had gone back to reading their respective magazines/bad novels. The small room we entered was ugly, sterile white, and smelled of whitewall. There were three desks somehow crammed uncomfortably into the space, each with a woman of varying age and state of boredom behind it and papers spilling out over the sides. There were pictures of ridiculously thin, ugly girls with puffy lips contorting themselves into strange and uncomfortable looking poses. I noticed that they all looked slightly healthier than I did.

"And here are my angels!" Richard said loudly. One of the women looked up lazily from her magazine and with just as much energy looked back down. She paused, gave a small start, and looked back up at us.

"Oh my god, they _are_ angels." She said breathlessly. The other women started looking at us too. They said the nicest things, about how beautiful we were, how we would be wonderful for modeling and the like... I felt like a zoo animal, and resented it, but everything halted when a strong sounding but strangely quiet voice rumbled dangerously through the office.

"What's going on here?"

The door in the corner had swung open, and in the doorway stood the shadow of an impressively built man smoking a cigarette. The affect of the words was amazing: all the women in the office hurriedly stuffed their reading materials into their desks and resumed whatever it was that they were doing before. I was amazed at how skillfully they returned to their typewriters, to make it appear as though they had been working all the while. The shadow man stepped out and into the room.

"I said, what's going on here?" I saw Richard Lewd slightly shrink away from the man, and I could tell that he was afraid of him. This alone made me like the stranger. He looked at my mother and I with little, if no reaction at all. This made me like him even more. "Who are these people Lewd?" Lewd scurried up like the little weasel that he was.

"Oh, hello Henry, I just discovered them. Aren't they lovely, Henry? I thought we could use-" the man waved his hand cutting Richard off.

"Yes, yes, I get the picture... just- stop talking now, and, stop talking about these young ladies like they're objects." I could not express in words the gratitude I felt for this man, Henry. He sighed heavily, and mumbled something about Rich and his girls. "Come into my office ladies- not you Lewd, are you a '_lady_?'" he snapped when Richard tried to follow as well. 'Yes, he is' I thought. I glanced back at the varmint I now so despised, and made the hem of his pants catch on 'fire.' As we stepped into the stranger's office, and the door was shut behind us, we heard a strangled cry of fear. I sat in one of the chairs the man gestured towards with a triumphant smile on my face.

The strange man, Henry, violently crushed his cigarette into the ashtray and sat across from us. The smile faded from my face. I could still see a trail of smoke rising from the embers of the mangled cigarette, the whole room smelt of smoke, and the ashtray was filled with similarly slain ashes. His fingertips formed a steeple and his hooded eyes stared us down. He was a shadowy character indeed, but I would trust him far before I would trust Richard Lewd. There was a long silence in which Henry stared at us, apparently calculating who would be the first to crack. Finally he spoke.

"Ladies, do you know what kind of business I run?" he asked. We both shook our heads. "Well, then," he continued, "let me tell you what kind of business I run." Henry spoke in calm well-measured words. "I run a very serious business here." He said, "I don't need people who are no good. I don't need people who aren't serious, and dedicated to working hard for this company. I don't need people who are afraid to bleed sweat and cry for my agency. I don't need two bedraggled children come from god knows where asking for a job. And, unfortunately for you, I don't need people. I have more models than you could safely shake a stick at, certainly more than enough to run the business." He fingered a neat stack of papers that was set on his desk and reclined in his chair.

"Now, though it pains me...to be frank; I don't exactly know whether you young ladies could _handle_ a difficult job like modeling," he said with obviously counterfeit remorse, "Now, I'm terribly sorry for all the inconvenience you were put through this..." he checked his watch, "evening, but I'm afraid we simply don't need any more models," he sat up again in his chair and gestured to the door, "So, if you could just go on out that door and down the stairs, you'll find yourself on the main road. I'm sure Richard would be more than happy to escort you two fine young ladies ho-"

"NO!" my mother stood up in her chair and slammed her hands on his desk, making Henry and I jump, "I need this job- I _need_ money! My daughter is hungry; and if this - this modeling will give money so I might feed her, then you will give me this job, or I will never allow you forget that you did not! I will never allow you rest until I am given job! It would be simpler now, but if not now, I _will_ be back! Make a choice."

My mother was breathing hard from the passion and poison of her words, her white blond hair splaying haphazardly across her flushed face. She glared him down, just daring him to point to the door again and Henry stared back at her wide-eyed in shock, and for a moment, an electric silence filled the whole office. Then, without warning, Henry relaxed and a strange smile crept across his face. When he spoke, he spoke quietly, and calmly, the way he always did.

"Excellent." He said in his well-measured words, "I was hoping you would say that."

* * *


	3. The Beginning of the End

woah, I just saw a new Incredibles teaser and mirage was actually in, like, two frames! Crazy. ok, you people, are really really awesome, I am still agog with how many people like my story! oh, and I upped the rating because I didn't realize that this story is a little more intense than I first planned. **plasmabomb**: thank you accept kudos I hope you continue to like this. you are awesome. **SwordoftheKing**: wow. thanks! I try.;-D **Voicegirl**: hm, you think Richard Lewd's going to cause trouble, well, read on, you just mught be right. oh, and it'll be awhile before Buddy/Syn enters the story, so, don't hold your breath or you'll suffocate. **Blackfire18**: this one's longer! **dswynne**: spanish? meh. it's too late to change it. whatever, and russian is more... Mirage-y **Soccergir**l: Thanx! **Wildtotodile:** because he loved her! or lusted for her... either way, he wouldn't be overly excited about getting rid of her too quickly. **ProphecyWeapon**: it just makes sense doesn't it? her being a super I mean. **Pitbulllady**: I don't even know where to begin. so...yay! you are awesome **BeautifulMind:** I totally understand, I just thought she was a wee bit out of character. I adore your story... _stories_ any way and you are cool. **Dashielle **and **Lady shelina Raven**: thank you thank you! **Base2**: and that's why I wrote this, because she does deserve a backstory. **PriestessLennoue**: continueing! **Tetra:** ha! I knew it! that's an awesome game!

* * *

While my mother signed the papers necessary, I could not take my eyes away from Henry. He yielded so much power over us. As the last flourishing mark was signed on the paper, Henry smiled knowingly, he knew of his own supremacy. Power, such power, even long before any of the papers were signed, he had us right in the palm of his hand, and we all knew it. I… admired it. 

He picked up the papers to check that everything was in order and looked up at us and smiled; a gesture I would soon discover to be rare.

"Well, Tatiyana, Anzehlika, welcome to Celestial Starz. Now, this is highly unusual in that I normally have girls coming to me who already have headshots and zed-cards and the like, but I can have that all made up for you, and before you know it, both of you will be out getting jobs. Tatiyana," He turned to my mother who, under is strong gaze, straightened up even more proudly than before, "you will most likely be doing fashion modeling, runway, catalogues and the like, due to your height" (5' 11", height being a trait I was not so lucky to receive through genetics), "and um, your 'look'."

He turned to me, "and Anzehlika, soon you'll be doing all sorts of children's magazines and catalogues and such, you're very pretty for your age-" he said the same words as everyone else did, and yet I didn't hate him for it, "- but don't expect to be getting jobs every time you're put out there." He stood up and opened the door for us. Taking our cue, we both stood up and made our way towards the exit as well.

We were almost out the door when Henry stopped us again, "wait, here's my card," he produced a small piece of cardboard paper, tucking it deftly into my mother's hand, "call as soon as possible, and we'll schedule a shooting for your zed-cards."

We were suddenly back in the greeting office. Richard Lewd was sitting nervously near the front door and the women behind their desks were typing busily on their typewriters. I wondered how long they had really been typing.

Upon seeing us emerge, Richard stood up nervously. I noted with amusement that he was drenched from the knee down and that the water-cooler in one of the corners was empty, obviously from trying to put out the "fire" I had started. He nervously walked over to us, and whispered urgently,

"Well? How did it go?" He nearly jumped out of his skin when a familiar dark voice answered for my mother.

"Excellent, they did quite well." We hadn't even noticed that Henry had reentered the room. "Now Richard, would you be so kind as to escort these ladies home. It's after dark, and I wouldn't want my two newest models to be mugged on the way. You understand? Excellent."

A ripple of excitement went through the ladies when they heard the phrase "newest models." And I could see a spark of genuine happiness in Lewd's eyes, which surprised me. We walked home without a word to Lewd, my mother grasping my hand the whole time. She would sometimes give my hand a little squeeze, and I would look up and my mother would smile at me. Something about that smile made me feel so hopeful for the future; it made me feel that maybe life would start looking up after all.

X

Henry paid for our headshots, zed-cards, everything. We couldn't afford them for ourselves, and he promised he would find a way for us to pay him back later. The headshots came out well, and everything was going smoothly. People told us that we were unusually photogenic, so I suppose that's why Henry took on a special intrest in the affairs of my mother and me. I grew to love him, and by the time I was twelve I came to see Henry as a sort of father figure. Like the father I hardy remembered. I could tell my mother admired him as well, but strangely enough, she seemed more afraid of him than anything else.

We were both getting jobs faster than any other models Henry had ever had. The ladies at the office, (Sally, Bertha, Simone and Kelly) all adored us, the other models… did not. In fact, they hated us.

Now, before I move on, I feel that I must mention something about my school life in all of this. Academically, school was… ridiculously easy. Unfortunately, school is not all book and numbers. Especially not middle school. There were cliques galore, and if you weren't part of one, you had no friends. I wasn't a part of any clique. You might think that since I was beautiful, I would be able to make friends quite easily, but that was not the case. I am not saying I was not beautiful for my age, because I was, very much so, but there is more to popularity than looks, not much more, but enough to prevent me from having any friends.

I was a bookworm. Probably more for company than actual enjoyment, although I did love the stories I read. I loved the characters more than any real people I had ever met, (excluding my mother of course) and I often wished that they were real. My powers weren't advanced enough to create the illusion of a person, and even if they were, I would never believe that the people _were_ real, so it would defeat the purpose of creating them.

In my books, I always had a soft spot in my heart for the misunderstood antiheroes… like the phantom, in The Phantom of the Opera. It made me cry when he died of a broken heart at the end. He was unloved, and it was just so unfair. But these characters, they always seemed to have the most interesting, tortured pasts; pasts that you could delve into and get lost in.

I grew to love the fictional people so much, that my standards for real people became very high. I didn't like any of the kids in my school at all. I suppose I thought they were immature or simple-minded or something, but I couldn't stand talking to someone my own age any longer than a few minutes.

I would always dread the days when one of my pictures would be discovered in a popular magazine. The most socially influential girls would wave the photo around and desecrate it and hang it on my locker.

The first time this happened I forgot the combination of my locker and dropped all my books on the ground. The other girls laughed at me and as they walked triumphantly away wondered loudly how such a clumsy girl could possibly be a model.

It could possibly have been my fault then, that only moments later the leader of them slipped on a large puddle of slippery ice. She fell flat on her ass, with her skirt flying up, and her vocal chords emitting a satisfying scream. It happened to be the middle of June, and the streets were far from frozen.

Anyway, back to the other models at the agency; they hated us. I remember there were times when all of the models from the agency would come together and have a big meeting of sorts. The meetings would be at different cafes or small restaurants in the back party rooms. I didn't know what it was all about then, and honestly, I still don't fully understand, although I have the sneaking suspicion that they only had them to gossip and complain about their part-time waitressing jobs.

I remember distinctly one meeting in particular. But then, how could I forget it, with what followed. It was three years after we joined the agency and I was thirteen; that awkward age where I couldn't model for children's magazines anymore, and was too young to model for teen magazines either. Or rather, I should have been. I was still snatching up jobs faster than anyone else, which confused the other models' simple minds. They didn't know what to think about me, so they just turned their confusion in to hatred, and that hatred into a dreadful weight, just waiting to fall on my head and smash me to pieces.

The meeting I recall took place right after school, and I hadn't eaten all day, so I was ravenously consuming the celery sticks and ranch that had been set out as refreshments. One of the models came up to me and shook her head condescendingly.

"Ooh," she said quietly shaking her head, "look at _all that ranch dressing_." She had long dark brown hair, and big brown eyes; a real Americana girl. "You're probably used to eating just as much as you want without gaining a pound." Another girl had come up behind the first.

"I wouldn't get into the habit of that if it were you, darling," she said, "your metabolism will slow right down as you get older." I stared dumbstruck at both of them my already huge eyes even more enormous than usual, and a celery stick half way up to my mouth. They both looked at me expectantly but I had nothing to say.

"Just wait, you'll start getting fat like the rest of the world, and when you do, you'll balloon right up." They were grasping at straws to get a reaction from me, and it almost worked. Eighth grade was certainly hard enough without these beautiful idiots prophesizing the end of my thinness as I knew it. But I continued to say nothing, and after a few minutes of expectant silence, they saw that I was going to be no fun to poke at. And turned on my mother.

"Well?" the brunette asked wickedly, "what _have_ you been teaching her?" My mother didn't have anything to say either. She had been standing on her own, looking around like royalty among peasants. And now she looked down her nose at the women who were heckling me and pushed past them to grab my hand. Together we rushed out of the room so quickly I didn't have time to say goodbye. Not that I wanted to.

We left that horrible place and slammed the door behind us and I was sure that I heard cutesy laughter as we left. We stormed through the trendy little restaurant, both of us in foul moods.

"This broke the back." My mother mumbled angrily. "The last straw" these small attacks had been building and building, none of them were huge, but mother was right, this was the last straw. Something had to be done. We walked quickly over the icy ground, partly out of anger, partly out of numbing cold. I was surprised when we passed the street to get home

"Ma-?"

"We're not going home, Lika." She said angrily.

Henry looked surprised when we arrived at the agency.

"Tatiyana, Anzehlika… what are you doing here? It's late." He said with a strange smile. Henry never smiled. And something about his smile made me, for the first time… afraid of him. "Come in," he said, "come in, come in" he shut the door behind us. "So, what's the problem?"

"Those models of yours," my mother began, "the ones you could not safely shake a stick at? They-" Henry cut her off.

"Wait," he said, "let's talk about this in my office." My mother looked up at him, startled. For some reason, I felt sick to my stomach. "Anzehlika, here, take this money and get a taxi, and go home, your mother and I have some things to discuss" My worst fears were confirmed, and so, it seemed were my mother's.I was only thirteen, but I wasn't stupid, and I knew that when Henry put his hand on the small of mymother's back and led her into his office without the smallest resistance from her,I knew he was doing something very wrong.

For a moment I couldn't think at all. I stared dumbly at the money in my hand then at the door shut before me.How did we get in this deep?How didwe no notice what a horrible man Henry was. No, how did _I_ not notice? My mother, she knew all along.

This money in my hand was money he had made through us, through all the models. All the models… and god knows what he had done to them. He held our jobs above ours heads. He had such power, such power over us, and he knew it, and he used that. I looked again at the vile paper in my hand, hating it with every ounce of my being. Hating that man that I had considered like my father.

I threw the money onto the ground and ran out of the agency slamming the door violently behind me. I ran all the way home. It was dark and I had to push my way through thick crowds of prostitutes and drug dealers but I didn't care. I ran blindly home and threw myself onto the bed and sobbed myself to sleep.

* * *

ok, now you see why I changed the rating? I hope some of you were at least a little surprised. 


	4. A Death in the Family

I'm back! and instead of a new chapter... I bring an updated version of chapter 4! wince please don't hurt me.

* * *

My mother was dead.

They said it was suicide, but I had my doubts. I somehow didn't think my mother was capable of something like suicide. They also said it was normal for me to think something like that. When they discovered her, she had been shot in the neck, the gun was still in her hand, and her fingers were scorched with gunpowder and soaked with blood, yet, I didn't believe that she did it.

After running all the way home that one unfortunate night, my mother didn't come home until late. I was still awake, waiting for her. I watched in silent fear as she came into the door and dropped her purse to the floor, following it down seconds later. She buried her head in her hands and took a few steadying breaths, her hair obscuring her face. She was like one of the numerous cigarettes in Henry's ashtray, crushed and mangled after he was finished, with nothing but the lingering smoke and ash left to remind him. That strong pride my mother had spent so long trying to build up had been destroyed by one man.

"Mama?" I asked uncertainly she looked up and saw me huddling on the couch, her own shame and sadness buried for the sake of her daughter.

"Oh, my little Lika," she said in Russian. She crawled to the couch and took me into her lap. Even though I was thirteen, I was small for my age, and could still fit wrapped up in her arms. The two of us lay there curled up together on the floor next to the couch. The only sounds came from the old fashioned clock on the wall, and the sound of our breath, becoming more and more steady until we both fell asleep.

Upon waking the next morning, I found myself lying on the couch with a thick blanket wrapped around me. I couldn't remember how I had gotten there, and only vaguely remembered feeling incredibly miserable. I opened a tired eye to see my mother quietly putting on her coat. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, looking at her quizzically.

"Oh! Lika, I-I'm sorry I woke you," she said. She seemed to be stumbling over her words.

"Where are you going?" I asked sleepily. She looked away from me and glared at the door.

"I won't be forgotten," she said quietly, bitterly. Then she looked back at me, "Lika, stay here, He thinks he can quiet me with a threat that he has quieted so many others, but he cannot. I am stronger than that." I said nothing but looked at her smiling innocently. It was the last day I would be innocent. She came and kissed me gently on the forehead and without another word, left.

And by that evening she was dead.

No one would listen to me. And when the investigation was over, I was shocked to see Henry get away without so much as a slap on the wrist. He hardly even had a moments inconvenience when they asked him questions about my mother. How could they not see the guilt on his face? Seeing his gloating smile was almost too much for me to bear when he walked away from the police station, and it made me completely reconsider how I saw the country's "fair" government. We had fled to this country for its freedoms, for it's shining justice, and golden promises. And now to find out that that justice was not so shining after all, left me just a little bit more hardened, and a bit more disillusioned with the world.

Somehow, my mother had written a will, leaving everything she possessed to me, and leaving me in the care of… Richard Lewd. I couldn't believe my ears. I was sitting there in my little black dress wearing the little black hat that we couldn't afford, sobbing my eyes out, when I heard Richard Lewd's name! Richard, on top of everything! How was this possible? I was too shocked to cry out. Too shocked to say anything. It was my mother's will, in her own hand, even signed by her.

For one wild moment, I thought that he had somehow forced her to put him down as my legal guardian, but when I saw the look of surprise, genuine surprise, on his face, I knew that he couldn't have known about this before. Besides, Richard Lewd lacked the resources, mental or otherwise, to force my mother to do anything. Henry looked rather surprised as well, when I looked at him then. And seeing his shock made it all make sense; she was doing it to spite Henry. At least that's what I wanted to believe. Thinking that I was causing Henry discomfort even in the smallest degree made it a bit easier to carry out my mother's wishes. I didn't think for one moment that perhaps Richard Lewd was the only responsible adult that my mother knew well and maybe even… trusted.

Needless to say, I left Celestial Starz agency, but to my surprise, Richard left too.

"I'd been meaning to leave for years now. Henry just walks all over me… he walks all over everyone…I just never had a reason. But anyway, I'm glad I didn't leave years ago though, if I had, I wouldn't have met you." He put a fatherly hand on my shoulder, and I smiled thinly up at him. Just five years, I told myself. Just five years.


	5. An Interview

wow, I am so sorry. I know that is no excuse for taking my sweet sweet time, but know that I adore you all and I'm sure that with counseling you'll come to forgive me. haha. cricket. cricket oookaaaay... sorry for taking so long, I'll be updating more often now. I think. I really hope you like this chapter. thanks to everyone who reviewed! I love those people!

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The day I moved in with my new guardian was difficult. Richard's apartment was nicer than ours had been, but it was darker, sadder, if you will. Richard seemed incredibly nervous to have a young girl living under his roof, and if I didn't despise him so much, I probably would have felt sorry for him. As it was, I didn't care a mite. In fact I was more worried about myself, and my own horrible situation. Five years, I told myself, after five years I would leave and live in France, making my living as a model.

He put my suitcases down at the foot of a bed in a dark sad little room. Despite my first impression however, the memory of that room now makes me glad that I was able to reside in it's comforting, damp walls. The bedding was green, and the walls were a pale pink. Bright enough to show color, but pale enough so as not to become offensive when I became older. Green and pink was one of my favorite color combinations, but I would die rather than let him know that I was content with the room in any way.

"I- don't like pink" I said sadly, innocently. He seemed to panic on the spot and I reveled in it.

"Oh, well, we, um, I could paint over it if you like" he said nervously. I looked at him, and seeing the look on his face felt ashamed.

"No. It'll do, the pink is fine. I- like the bedding." Why was I bothering - no- going out of my way to make him fell better? I just stood there, my eyes glued to the green bedding, and he stood there, his eyes glued nervously to me, as though I was some queen, and if I was not pleased, then his life would be over.

The next few weeks Richard did everything he could think of to please me. He bought me everything I needed as a young girl, and tried (and failed) to help me with my homework. He cleaned up his wardrobe, cut his hair; no bad comb-over would be good enough now that there was a lady in the house. He tried desperately to learn how to cook, and (after a few miserably failed attempts) became quite good at it. He smiled and cracked bad jokes, and I heartlessly tried his patience by glowering at him, and gazing darkly at the world that I insisted had thrown me out, but inside, I knew I was being unfair, and I knew that Richard was terrified out of his wits, and trying as best he could to be a good guardian. I couldn't believe that all this time I had refused to see that Richard Lewd was a truly good person. Maybe he just became better because he was trying to make me happy; whatever the reason, it was impossible to tell.

Before I knew what had happened, a year had passed. Then two, then three, and I was sixteen years old. My grades were fairly good; I would have excelled, especially in mathematics, had I not been traveling around so much. I would have dearly loved to join the debate club, or try out for the school musical, but I was far to busy for anything like that. Ah, life's little regrets. But my platinum hair shined, and my vibrant green eyes sparkled on the camera. With Richard as my agent we were both able to thrive. My modeling career was flourishing in an unexpected blaze of job offers. I was only turned down two out of every five jobs I auditioned for. I flew to across the country more times than I can remember, and Richard was hardly able to keep up with my success. Fashion magazines, makeup campaigns, runway shows (I was only barely tall enough to do runway), and catalogues, all seemed to be adding themselves to my resume.

I was traveling back and forth from home (San Francisco) to New York and LA so often that I sometimes wondered if it would be easier to just move, but Richard wouldn't have that, he liked San Francisco, and liked living in a place where he felt at home. He said that here he felt like he belonged and knew the rhythm of the place. Here he could share inside jokes with the rest of the people of the city and feel connected to those he didn't even know, just because they lived in the same great place. Anywhere else, he said, and he would feel like one of those annoying tourists that swarm the city in ugly hats and socks in their sandals; the tourists that he was always complaining about. And so, we never moved.

I grew to love the small apartment in which we lived, and my pink and green room. That room saw all my tears and laughter and anger for three and a half years, after that well… my story happened, and I had to leave home from there. I also grew to love Richard

It was when I was sixteen that I had the opportunity to interview for a huge runway show in Italy. It was a big opportunity, and I was heartbroken when the woman at the interview sneered at my application.

"Green eyes and… blonde hair… _platinum _blonde hair at that. That's very unusual," she said suspiciously, "unusual bordering on the" she paused for emphasis and looked at me critically, "unnatural." It was a strange way to begin the interview.

"I- I swear I've never dyed it." I stammered, sounding a bit more passionate than I meant to. She raised eyebrow. I mentally smacked myself.

"Right then…"she said looking back down at her desk and writing something on the papers in front of her. She then turned to a camera that I hadn't noticed until now and turned it on "So tell me, why do you want me to hire you." I tore my eyes away from the blinking red eye of the camera to see her looking at me expectantly. I cleared my throat to buy myself some time and when I realized that I still didn't know what to say, I opened my mouth anyway. To the surprised of no one, no words came out.

"I'm sorry," I said finally, "what was the question?"

"Why. Do you want me. To hire you?" she said slowly.

"I well," I was horribly conscious of the camera to the left of the woman and lost my train of though. I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I've never been to an audition like this before." The woman smiled and scribbled something else on that dreaded clipboard of hers.

"I'm sure you haven't" she said with no small amount of condescension "but regardless to that little fact, answer the question."

"Well," I began thoughtfully, "I've never been to Italy" I laughed, the woman sucked her teeth, and I cleared my throat again. "Well, It would be a fantastic opportunity for me, it would really boost my career and I'm a big fan of the designer-"

"Boost your career? You act as if this is just something for you resume. Is _that _how you see this line? If she- if any designer heard you talk about their labors like that I would assure you that you would never model again." I was horrified

"I never meant any offense! I have been hoping to model this type of clothing for as long as I've been modeling!"

"_Type?_ This line cannot be classified by any _type_"

Everything I said seemed to get me farther and farther into a hole that I never meant to dig. After an eternity, the interview from hell ended. The woman heaved a deep, "I-am-just-so-put-upon" sigh and rubbed her eyes.

"Thank you," she said, "we'll be calling if we decide we need you" I took a deep breath and didn't take my time to stand to leave; mustering all the strength I could to give her a gracious smile. Right as I reached the door, the woman called after me "but don't hold your breath."

X

I came home and tossed myself upon the couch my arm flung over my eyes in a picture of despair.

"I just know I didn't get the job I know I messed up. That woman… I may never get an opportunity like this again!" I started speaking to myself in rapid Russian cursing my inferiority and my horrible luck, peppering my language with a few incomprehensible swearwords here and there. Richard had no idea what to say and didn't understand why I cared so much.

"This is just another interview," he said in attempted consolation, "you know you won't get every job you try for." I sat up and stared at him, scandalized by the words.

"This. Is. Not. Just. Another. Job. Do you even _know_ who the designer is? Do even _know_ what the line of clothing is?"

"Well… no"

"She is the most forward thinking revolutionary designer to hit the scene in years. She dreams the designs of the future, she sews the seams of tomorrow, creates the patterns of true elegance, boldness, fantasy. Every time she does a line, people always whisper that it will be the last time that she _ever _designs again. They say she doesn't like models-

"If she doesn't like models, why would you want-"

"But right when people think she's gone, she comes back again with a line bigger and better than anything ever seen before. Who knows when she'll be gone for good, but while she's around, her clothing is the most fantastic, any model can ever dream to wear on the runway. She's immensely rich, immensely famous, and immensely talented and ever since I started modeling, I've always dreamed of modeling her clothes. Now that I've messed up that interview, all I can do is dream." I heaved another unhappy sigh and buried my head in my pillow.

"My God." Richard said as he awkwardly patted my head.

"Yes. It is that bad."

"Who _is_ the designer?" he asked, absolutely aghast. I lifted my head and gazed out the window.

"Edna, Mode."


	6. Fitting in

I. Am. So. Happy. sobs! I wrote (and finished)this chapter 3 weeks agoand the day that I was going to do some final checks and post it... My. Computer. Went. Down. I am so incomplete without my internet! sob but here it is, three weeks late: the (fifth?) chapter of Mirage of the truth! (I'm on a C2 community, and to whoever put me on it thank you so much! it's an honor!) (oh, and sorry it's so short)

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Since my high school days, I have learned that the best way to deal with being different is to flaunt it and live your life with different as a ruling factor, regardless what the rest of the world thinks. Unfortunately at the age of sixteen, I hated the fact that I had powers. It made me different, something that my looks already managed to do quite effectively. Back then I tried desperately to fit in and to draw as little attention to my beauty as I possibly could. I dressed plainly and begged for desks in the back corners of the classes where I spent my time trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. My teachers always raised an eyebrow at such requests but were usually happy to oblige; I was, to my dismay, a fantastic student.

In this way, I managed to fit in. I realize now that such precautions in hiding my appearance were perhaps unnecessary but the precautions I took to hide my powers however ghastly were completely necessary. It didn't take me long to discover that human nature dictated that a certain level of different can lead to ridicule and discomfort, while a greater level of different can lead to consequences far worse. When people don't understand they fear and hate, so if a small person in society had say… super powers (as an obscure example) the rest of society would see this person as an obviously superior being and therefore a threat. I will not insult the reader's intelligence by saying how society deals with threats.

In this constant crippling fear, the only person that I ever trusted enough to tell about my powers was my late mother. In other words, I was the only person in the world who knew of a little fair-haired super running around. I never told anyone, not even Richard, about my abhorred yet strangely exhilarating powers.

The reason I mention this is because my powers had been acting up in strange and terrifying ways. I was creating mirages when I never meant to; which lead to suspicions about my true nature, and silent investigations by nosy people. I was called up to the office once to investigate the sudden appearance of a very large and agitated Billy goat in the middle of the basketball courts (an explanation neither can nor will be provided). They had no way of proving that _I_ had somehow influenced it to appear and disappear into thin air, but I was among the few in the gym at they time, and oddly enough they had their suspicions. I felt I could not deal with something like this on my own, so after twenty minutes of questioning, I hurried home to spill everything to Richard, my surrogate father. I knew that if I couldn't trust Richard, I couldn't trust anyone.

I stood outside the door to our modest apartment gathering the strength to spill my secrets to Richard. I knew that if I took my time and beat around the bush it would never happen. I burst through the door.

"Richard I-"

"Lika, what are you doing home so late?" The words died in my throat the moment they were intercepted.

"Um…" I faltered, "I went for late lunch with some friends. I apologize for not calling. I- I ran out of quarters" lies. Lies. Lies. Richard just smiled. I would be spared the scolding just for having friends. Erm, _imaginary_ friends. I crossed the living room to get to my room but stopped halfway to the hall. If I didn't confess now (confess… see what guilt I associated with my powers?) then I would never have the courage to do so again. "Richard?" I said tentatively

"Yes?" He looked up from his newspaper.

"D- do you remember the supers?" I watched with dismay as Richards features darkened.

"Ugh" he said, "those prancing spandex wearing narcissists? Yeah, I remember them. They always seemed to think they were better than anyone else. They hardly even cared about all the _danger_ they put everyone in. If I was the government, I'd have all of them locked up. Every single one of them." he sniffed and looked back at his paper until he seemed to remember that I had been the one to bring up the subject. "What about the supers?" He said absently. I tried desperately to make my question seem offhand.

"Oh, In school we um…I always kind of admired them. That's all." He looked up from his paper for the umpteenth time and smiled indulgently at me.

"Of course you did, Anzhelika, you were a child." I didn't return the smile, and walked slowly to my room dragging my leaden stomach with me. It looked like I couldn't trust anyone.

Knowing I had to depend entirely on my own resources from now on, I managed to avert the blame onto a prestigious member of the FFA. By the time they finally realized that his specialty was cows, they had completely lost interest in me. Of course it didn't hurt that Mr. Malum, a certain important math teacher, was fervently backing my case. That incident is how I learned that men in power are, after all, only men.

All this happened about one year before that atrocious interview for Edna Mode's new fashion line. I hated to dwell on the past, but thinking about my sixteenth year kept me from thinking of my present situation even if the memories made me feel even more utterly alone. Sometimes I wondered if there was anyone I _could_ trust. Richard knew not to disturb me when I was in moods like this, so when I heard a timid knock on the door, I was exasperatedly surprised.

"Come in." I said.

"Mail for you." He said merrily waving a medium sized envelope. I glared up at my guardian.

"_That's _what you came in here for?" He smiled mischievously.

"This I thought you'd like to see right away." I took the letter suspiciously and turned it over in my hands. My look of skepticism instantly turned to shock.

"This can't be." I whispered. "This can't be what it looks like"

It was.

I began speaking rapidly in Russian. "как сделал их... почему сделал их? сколько девочек они выбирали? кто - то заболел? Я не могу верить - о, я настолько счастлив! Я никогда не был настолько счастлив! Oh thank you Richard! Thank you thank you thank you!"

The envelope contained a ticket to Prague where the show would be held and the address of the hotel. It told me I would be contacted when I got there about the show, the line, and maybe (if I was lucky) I would meet Edna Mode

The ticket was for the next week.

I quickly packed and counted the minutes before I left, unsatisfied that it would be an entire seven days. Had I known what would come of the trip, I might not have left at all. I would have at least cherished my last few moments in that comfortable apartment, and my sweet pink room instead wishing the time to pass more quickly away.


	7. Goodbye to Richard & the UglyPretty girl

I know you won't take anymore of my excuses, what with it being another three weeks plus to update. but actually, belive it or not, I was, again away from the computer another three weeks. I was in Europe. On a tour. oh yes, I can feel the pity raining down on me in great torrents of... pity. but no! pity me not! pity only yourself because I was so... away. This isn't helping my case. Actually do pity me! Ionly got three reviews last chapter! tear oh how the mighty have fallen. I was really starting to enjoy those many reviews. I gues that none else is really going onto the Incredibles page anymore. I understand. I guess. Here's the damn chapter. next chapter up soon. I excited about what is to come, Benjemin isn't coming in for another few chapters (sorry), but when he's in it, he'll play a big part.(yay) right. Chapter. Read.

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I had to catch the bus at 9:30, in order that I could catch my plane on time, so I set the alarm to go off at 7:30. And… then stayed up all night waiting for it to ring. Finally at around 5:47, I got sick of just sitting in bed pretending to sleep, and leapt from beneath the covers. I checked my luggage to see if I had packed everything, took a shower, checked my luggage again, got dressed, ate breakfast, tried to read a book, checked my luggage again and sat down on my bed. Then the alarm went off. Unfortunately, now that the stupid machine had finally decided to grace us with its obnoxious song, I was already completely ready to go. So now I was no longer waiting for the alarm, but rather for the time to be 9:00 so I could leave the apartment and make my way to the bus.

I flopped onto my bed in frustration, and somehow fell asleep.

The next thing I knew, Richard was waking me up.

"Anzhelika! What are you doing? It's 9:15!" I shot out of my bed and out of my room so quickly one would have thought that my power was super speed, and before Richard knew what was happening, I had grabbed my luggage and was running as fast as possible (which wasn't very fast at all, for my luggage was heavy and it didn't have wheels) out the apartment door.

"Wait! Anzhelika! Wait for me!" But by the time Richard had struggled with his jacket and managed to get it onto the correct arms I was already dashing out the building's entrance two stories down.

Because of my heavy luggage, Richard quickly caught up with me, but rather than allowing me to carry it all myself, he helped me by grabbing one of the handles. He did this without even thinking, as though common decency dictated he do so. At that moment I realized that I really would miss my adoptive father. This certainly was not the first time I would be away from him, but for some reason, being across the ocean made the distance seem so much farther, and the time away doubly long. Carrying the weight of the bag between us allowed us to hobble along the street side at a slightly more agreeable pace, but even so, we arrived just as the bus was loading up. The driver yelled at me that I was late, shoved my bag under the bus, and ushered me into the vehicle before I could even get two words of apology out. Just as we were pulling away it occurred to me that in all the rush of the morning, I hadn't said a proper goodbye to Richard. Suddenly panicked, I stumbled and tripped my way to the back of the bus and knelt on the empty back seat. Richard was still staring in shock at the bus and when I appeared in the large rectangular window, his face lit up with a glorious joy. I waved sadly at him.

"Goodbye Richard." I said softly, "my… father." I looked back until we turned a corner and I could no longer see him then I collapsed into the proper direction of my seat slapping tears from my face. I didn't understand these tears; wasn't I going to be seeing Richard again in just one weeks? I had thought so, but suddenly I wasn't so sure. Something made me want to scream at the driver to stop the bus so I could get off and run home. For a moment I forgot the show, forgot sense, forgot everything; all that mattered to me in that moment was being safe and secure in my green and pink room. Then my mind kicked back in. I banished these ridiculous thoughts and got my self settled back into my original seat. Everything was going to be fine, just… fine.

My tickets were for another airport that was less crowded than the one in San Francisco. Unfortunately the other one was two hours away, so I might as well have just gone to the San Francisco one and it would have taken the same amount of time. As my mother used to say, 'you can buy six eggs, or half a dozen, but the price will be the same.' The thought of my mother made me sad again, which made me angry. Why on earth was I hopping from one sad thought to the next? What was this foreboding feeling? This was supposed to be a great adventure.

When we finally arrived at the airport I was already so exhausted that I couldn't possibly imagine being in another enclosed space for a further thirteen hours. I could tell it would be no great adventure, or at least not an adventure that would be particularly amusing. I checked my baggage, and found my gate, with no difficulty at all but now I could only sit and wait for the thirty-five minutes before the plane was set to arrive. I sat on one of the uncomfortable benches and waited for a bored stupor to set in.

But just as my stupor was graciously taking over my body, I heard a creature of pure and resplendent evil say in it's most courteous and darling of voices,

_Dingdingding_

"Nonstop flight to the city of Prague, number 1065, will be delayed today," I looked in horror at my ticket. It read in big bold letters "flight number 1065". Maybe I misheard, maybe she hadn't said 106- "I repeat, Nonstop flight to the city of Prague, number 1065, will be delayed today, we apologize for any inconveniences, and wish you all a pleasant flight with Morticum airlines. "

_Dingdingding_

"Ugh!" I fell onto the bench so I could lie down, but much to my surprise felt my head plunge onto someone's lap. I opened my eyes and looked into a severe pair of angrily flashing blue ones, surrounded by the face of an ugly girl.

"Oh! Hello." I said as I hurriedly sat up. The girl only raised a manicured eyebrow and smiled as one smiles upon a child who has just gone and scraped her knee and begs for sympathy.

"Hello." She said affectedly, as she expanded her smile one last stretch and looked away. Upon closer inspection, the girl was not ugly at all, only the expression on her face had made her seem so. She was in fact quite pretty, almost beautiful, with a long slender neck, full lips, and gently waving chestnut colored hair. Only her strong jaw and broad forehead kept her from being classically beautiful.

The girl stifled an exaggerated yawn and flashed me that affected smile again, this time apologetically.

"Ugh" she sighed, "this is my second flight today, and I am just _so_ tired, I don't know how I'm ever going to survive. I'm from LA you see." There was a pause, then she, frustrated with my lack of response pressed further, "Are you from around here?" a direct question. One cannot ignore a direct question. With and inward sigh I condescended to respond.

"No, I'm not" I said shortly. She tilted her head and gave me a pretty little enquiring pout, tilted heads, like direct questions, can also not be ignored, so I elaborated further. "I am… from San Francisco. I took a bus here this morning." I was tired and nervous about what Prague would bring, and cruelly, I considered myself above this girl, I did not want to talk to her, so I had hoped that this would end the conversation. But alas, the girl smiled wider and ever more graciously,

"Ah, that would explain why you look so… _disheveled_, you poor dear" the comment triggered two things, the first was the thought, 'ah, she's a model' the second was my patented sweet half smile accompanied by a shrug. All nervousness, all lethargy, all disdain for the girl next to me went out the window; the moment I felt the weak sting of the white glove it was time to play the game. Fortunately for me I knew her game. Unfortunately for her, I was one of the best at it.

"Well," I said appraising her hair, "I am lucky though, I mean that I had time to comb my hair at least a little bit."

Her eyes flashed with jealousy, while she gathered her pride and prepared for another attack to bring me down. We played this cruel game until it was time to board the plane. She played with wide obnoxious grins, and pretentious laughter, I with sly smiles and lowered eyes. She was the bunny-rabbit with very sharp teeth, I the emerald snake beneath the bed of flowers.

I stood the very moment our plane arrived, my carry-on already on my back,

"I suppose this is goodbye," I said offering the girl a sweet smile. Before she had even completed her calculated grin, I was in the front of the line presenting my ticket and walking down the retractable hallway towards the plane. I was one of the very first people on the plane and as such, I had time to stow my bag in the upper compartment without lines of people waiting in suspense behind me. I did so at a leisurely pace, and sat in my large spacious chair right next the window. First class, was a truly beautiful thing, especially since I didn't have to think about what it was doing to my finances. While I was far from poverty stricken at this point in my life, I still remembered the days of bologna sandwiches, and so made a point to live in relative frugality; it always made me nervous to spend too much of my money. But seeing as I had been given these tickets, I felt no shame in enjoying the benefits money had to offer. Maybe this wasn't going to be such a long flight after all. Warmed by these thoughts, I smiled out the window. I was startled from my reverie by a long-nailed tap on the shoulder.

"Excuse me m- oh! It's you! What a coincidence! This is my seat right here! I was going to ask you to pass my pillow." I stared with barely masked astonishment. It was the ugly-beautiful girl from the anteroom!

"What a coincidence indeed," I said. Wide-eyed I passed her the requested object and looked back out the window. This was going to be a long flight, a very long flight indeed.


	8. Chives

Thank youthank you for the reviews! this chapter is longer than the others have been, but not much happens. it's dedicated to Jason (if he ever reads it), my best friend who invented the character Chives. SilverWurm: and here's what happens next! **Raven's Girlfriend**: I like your name... bit forward aren't we? "the next episode is called bunny Raven... sounds promising, even if she doesn't join playboy" someone ages ago anyway... lol thank you for the fanastic review! I'm glad you're reading. **Capitaine Cartoon**: thank you so much for reading my story! and for the great review!those are the sort that make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, especially coming from such a fantastic author as you! I'm seriously honored. **Inspector Brown**: I found out she was Spanish about two days after I posted the story, I gues the reason I didn't check was because I like her being Russian instead. Shhh...on an unrelated note, I read your bio and respect your style of reviewing. people shouldn't get glowing reviews all the time. **Kung Pow Kitty**: Yikes, thank you so much! wow. I might explode.

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"Of course I would never condescend to doing something like that… the sheer classlessness of it!" Ugly-Beautiful girl was speaking. "I can't even imagine who _would_ stoop so low as to swim in a public pool." And she absolutely would not stop. "I can only imagine the human filth and, and putrid grime festering in that disgusting thing they call a 'pool' cesspool is more like it." Good manners dictated that I smile and nod, "Oh no, you would never catch me dead there, and besides, I don't think I could handle the way all those boys would admire my near-naked body."

Unfortunately, something told me that regardless how thoroughly I could explain myself to the judge he would fail to agree that this was justifiable homicide. Besides, good manners kept me from doing such things. She let out a put-upon sigh. "I'm sure you understand what I mean. It sure is difficult being an icon of beauty. Never had I so despised my good manners, the very same that kept me safe from doing any of the truly drastic things I imagined doing. But instead of acting, I simply smiled and nodded my way through a good three hours of the flight. Or so I thought.

"Jesu Christus!" the girl started at my exclamation as though just then realizing the thing she had been speaking to could articulate just as well as she.

"What is it?" She asked worriedly.

"It's barely been an hour!" I said breathlessly, tapping my old faithful pocket watch, hoping desperately that it had chosen this odd moment to stop working. Honestly, I could have cried.

"Of course silly. How long did you think it had been? I know how you feel, time really does fly." She gave another one of her insincere smiles. "By the way I don't think I caught your name…?" I looked out the window and bit the inside of my cheek.

'Deep breaths, Lika' I told myself, 'deep…breaths…' I turned back to her and smiled. "My name, is Anzhelika." I said with a tiny flourishing hand movement.

"Really, that's… _interesting_. My name's Angelica."

"Oh." There was a vaguely awkward silence during which I prayed that the girl would fail to discover the obvious. But alas, it wasn't long until I saw the gears working furiously behind her lazy pale eyes. She tucked a wisp of brown hair behind her ear, "Hey," she said in slow bemusement, "isn't that like… the same name, except in different languages?"

"Yes it is." I winced as I said the words, knowing what was coming next. She smiled again the happiness shining behind her eyes.

"This like, makes us a pair! We have to stick together once we get to Prague!" she grinned again, proud of her clever deductions. What to say? What to say? I had to think of some clear way to let her know that I was not going to be her friend.

"I'm actually here on business, so I probably won't have spare time for leisure." She looked confused, so I simplified it for her, "I have to work." Understanding dawned on her face.

"Oh me too!" then she looked confused again and asked me conspiratorially, "Are you a business woman?" this time I could not hide my scathing look of condescension.

"No, I'm a model!"

"Wow. Um, you'll think I'm making this up, but… so am I!" there was a moment of silence while I regarded her.

"I'm actually not surprised." I said finally. A smile lit Angelica's face as she flipped her hair vainly.

"Really?"

"I mean, I've seen enough models in my career to know how they…" act, I desperately wanted to say, how they act so air headed and stupid, even if they're not. What I said instead was, "how they look, and, um… dress." I laughed quietly to myself, and she smiled indulgently.

"Well, I figured you were a model too." I raised an eyebrow, "the tomes of headshots in your bag were a dead giveaway." She explained. Tomes? I didn't have more than five or six in there, just in case, but her point was made.

An eternity later, only another hour had passed.

Then another.

Then another.

Noiselessly, tediously, sleepily, the hours slipped by. It was like waiting for very cold jell-o to melt off an equally cold spoon. I felt I would go insane if I stayed in this place anymore, and just as I was convinced that my trusty pocket watch actually _had_ stopped and was forlornly returning it to my pocket, I gasped and stood up, knocking over my orange juice and bumping into the chair in front of me.

I had experienced something I had never felt before: a sharply distinct feeling of danger, in the near vicinity? Future? I didn't know, but it was indeed near. I could only assume that the feeling had something to do with my powers, but why I had never noticed it before now…

Soon as I had calmed my panicked breathing, I looked down at Angelica; she glared at me suspiciously, (which was understandable seeing at I had not only succeeded in upsetting a sizeable portion of the cabin, and two flight attendants, but also my orange juice) and continued scribbling in her diary. The warning shock disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and I sheepishly sat down, feeling more than a little silly.

"So…" I said, "What are you writing about?"

"Oh. Um. Just about what's happening right now. The plane. You." There was another warning flare, a shadow of the one I had had just moments before "the E. Mode show I'm going to be doing…"

"'E. Mode?'" I asked in shock, "as in Edna Mode's new dazzlingly futuristic clothing line 'E. Mode'?" The girl nodded happily. And I stared blankly forward at the back of the seat in front of me.

'Fate hates me.'

Prague, the city of a hundred spires, most of the buildings here were built long before Columbus even thought to explore the ocean blue. It is said that years ago someone sat on a tall hill and counted over three hundred spires. He tried to correct the mistake, but "the city of over three hundred spires" doesn't sound nearly so classy. Prague, a city that has centered endless uprisings, clashes and rebellions, a city of beauty, fashion, architecture, tourists, and mean locals. A city that manages to bustle busily but still feel sleepy all the time. This is where we were dropped by the plane, and left to discover the next bit of our lives. Fate seemed to have ordained that Angelica and I stick together, and seeing as I knew no one else in the city, I grudgingly gave in to that cruel mistress Chance. Besides, she seemed safe enough, and even if she was mentally unstable, it wasn't in the dangerous way.

The moment we emerged from the plane it occurred to us that we had no idea where to go. So naturally we had no choice but to follow the rest of the crowd down the weird retractable staircase and watch forlornly as families rushed off to begin their vacations, locals hugged loved ones, and touring choirs practiced their songs. I walked past these strangers with Angelica like a puppy on my heels, the two of us gazing at the forest of signs until one caught my eye.

It was held by a petit man wearing formal butler's clothing and said "ANZHELIKA & ANGELICA." I pointed it out to the other girl.

"That must be for us." We walked closer to the man, but strangely enough, the closer I got the more I questioned whether this man was… well, a man at all. He was wearing a coat with tails and hair slickly tied back; he was facially androgynous, yet she had eyes, which bore a distinct feminine beauty. We stepped up to the Butler who looked a tad surprised and looked around as though wondering from whence we had appirated.

"Oh. Miss's Anzhelika Verunya, and Angelica Hope, I presume," s/he (?) said softly, leaning back slightly so as to see our faces without having to crane his neck. "I am to be called Chives, if you need anything, I am the one to whom you must take your request, only request sparingly, as I am a very busy…" oh please say man or woman, I thought desperately "person. Now, follow me."

Chives led us to a small black car and opened the back door for us to get inside. I could see that this chives character was a very politely impatient person, and that s/he wouldn't have any problem disliking us, and would in fact find any excuse to do so. After Angelica safely secured herself into the car and smiled campily at Chives, Chives sarcastically returned the smile tipped his smart little bowler hat, and slammed the car door.


	9. Meeting Edna

thank you loads to those who reviewed! this is an awesome undertaking for me, this story is going to be incredibly long with everthing that I've planned for it, it probably won't be finished till I'm like, twenty. It's practice. It's kind of gotten away from me, I never realized how long it would be! anyway, I'm listening to Corpse Bride right now, so awesome! who else is totally psyched about it? (I hate all those people who live in Toranto and LA and New York. they get it a week early. grrr.) Syndrome has now officially entered the story. expect to see alot of him sooon. oh, and of Asper. I like him.

* * *

Benjamin Pine hated being in the spotlight unless it was entirely in his calculating terms. This brilliantly persuasive negotiator, this genius of an idiot was one of the world's richest most and most powerful people of his age long before he met me. Insane and in his own way evil, he used his innocent and boyish behavior to coerce his business associates into a secure lull; he did not appear a force to be reckoned with, and this appearance made him all the more so. When the moment was right, he would pounce upon his unsuspecting dealing associate, like a lamb shredding to pieces the tiger upon which it rests its head, gleaning as much fortune as possible from the surprise. They would still both get what they wanted, but with a much more favorable tilt towards Mr. Benjamin Pine. So ahead of his time where his inventions and weapons, that upon further reflection his used business associates considered them well worth the price, and decided that the attack was not an attack at all but rather a… reconsideration of value; they didn't even know that he saved the best inventions for himself.

His taste for anonymity developed just as his lust for power did. A year before we met, he had finished building his headquarters on an uncharted island somewhere in the North Pacific. It took him only two months. He had had plans long before I became aware of what they were; and now as I look back I wonder if maybe he had been planning from the very start, since his adolescence… childhood even. I knew him better than anyone has ever known him, and even I was consistently confused by his behavior; but now that he is dead, I wonder if the world will ever know the real Buddy Pine.

Directly after his headquarters had been built he began to search for an assistant, preferably with… special abilities. His search brought him to restricted, branch of the government. A branch, which the government had consistently assured the public not to exist. Benjamin of course knew better, and the government knew better than to deny him access. His green eyes scanned the angry figures behind the sterile glass walls and narrowed. Benjamin sighed.

"This is the last wing Asper?" he asked his stern, but nervous-looking guide. When the young man nodded curtly, Benjamin sighed and pulled at his grey suit, which looked so severe that it accented his childish features. "I must say I'm disappointed with your selection. Perhaps I should –" the man nervously cut him off.

"We have one of our people following a promising lead. As soon as the specimen does anything… interesting, we will have her here and will notify you immediately. After a few tests of course."

"Tests, yes of course. Well, be sure and notify me. And no disappointments this time. Tests… and, be sure not to hurt her." For the first time, the guide smiled thinly and his wolfish eyes seemed to flash silver.

"Of course not."

"Wake _uuuup_ Anzhelika!" I opened my eyes in a flash to find myself staring into those bright brown ones of one miss Angelica Hope. Sitting up and shoving her off my bed I glared around at the room cursing my fate, and looking for my luggage, all the while trying to ignore the girl's incessant yammering. She seemed intent on deliberately ruining this day.

'Stupid girl' I thought. 'Stupid, _stupid_ girl!'

"Aww, don't be like that! Chives is going to be here any minute to make sure I woke you up."

"Chives?" I said groggily

"The gender confused butler?"

"Right. Right." I stumbled into the bathroom and examined my features. Deathly pale, dark circles under the eyes, rumpled limp hair… I can work with this. I picked up a brush and began to work through the tangles in my hair.

"So anyway, Chives came in here like a half an hour ago, and told me that we would be leaving in another half an hour and that I should wake you up. Well, I let you sleep as long as I could because you were just so tired last night after the flight, but I just couldn't wait any longer. Chives is going to be here any moment so I suggest you just…" as if twelve hours of this _wasn't_ enough. "… and maybe a _little_ bit of makeup, you know, so you look presentable for Ms. Mode. You know it's a shame I've never seen you looking your best. I'm sure you're ravishing." I stopped mid brush stroke.

"Ms. Mode? As in Edna Mode? We're going to see her?"

"Oh, well, yes. Didn't I mention that before?"

"No!"

"oh. That's strange." I could have choked her, and I swear I would have had there not been a knock on the door right at that moment. So I had to content myself with a seething glare and stalked over to the door of the room. I looked out the peephole, and saw a person's eye, obviously examining it on the other side. I opened the door and saw Chives, startled to see no longer a peephole but a rather disgruntled looking seventeen year old.

"Ahem. Yes." Chives said, straightening her coat with tails, "are we all ready to go?" He eyed my appearance skeptically, I was wearing a short nightgown with only my nice silk robe over it.

"Uh-" I began to say, but Angelica was quicker than me.

"Yes! Yes we're all ready! Here, Anzhelika, I'll bring some Makeup and you can do it in the limo. We wouldn't want to be late or anything!"

"But!" I had no time to protest. I was being led by Angelica and before I knew what was happening was loaded into the limo. I had only woken up three and a half minutes ago.

Inside the limo was a gaggle of giggling chattering hair-flipping models. I felt like I had maybe not woken up and when they saw my apparel and hid their stupid grins behind their hands, I felt that I had walked into a terrible nightmare. I tried to apply some of the makeup and ignore all the other girls, but soon found this difficult. The jostling of the limo, combined with the catty hints of the other models made it nearly impossible to do a good job. I had only just finished applying makeup to both eyes when we pulled into the parking lot of avery fancy looking hotel.

Chives opened the door, and a flood of long legs in short skirt burst forth from the limo. Chives waited until we were all out."go in through that door to await Ms Edna Mode. I would suggest that you stand perfectly erect in a very straight line. I shall go inform her that you have arriaved and she will be here any moment." Chives bowed curtly and walked formally away.

Twenty minutes later found us all perspiring in a large spacious hall waiting for "the Big E" to show up. Chives had told us to stand perfectly erect in a straight line. We had been doing so for nearly ten minutes and were collectively beginning to get very nervous. Just as a few of the girls were beginning to look to one another for help, the doors at the far end of the hall burst open and the huge presence of a tiny woman filled the room. The girls and I noticeably straightened our backs and looked straight ahead as the woman got closer and closer. Finally she stood right in front of us. she held a long cigarette holder and took out a lighter.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked slowly. It sounded like a test so none of us said anything. Her insanely huge eyes scanned each of us. "Good" she finally said as she lit her cigarette. Looking irresistibly like a drill sergeant, she began to walk in front of us, murmuring to herself. She stopped in front of one of the girls.

"You!"

"Y-yes, Ma'am?" the girl looked terrified, and understandably so. She still stared straight ahead, though the woman was standing directly below her.

"Are you prepared to show this line of _art_ to the very best of your abilities?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"What was that?

"Yes Ma'am!"

"Are you _sure_ you think you are ready?"

"Yes Ma'am!"

"Are you sure!"

"Yes Ma'am!"

Edna Mode smiled showing her enormous teeth and nodded at the girl.

"Very well then." At the very end of the line, I stood shaking in my fuzzy slippers. Dreading when she would arrive at the end of the line and see my inappropriate attire. This was not how I envisioned this trip. Edna continued down the line, snapping at girls as she saw fit.

"You! Stop looking so sour! You! Straighten up! You! Eat something! Feh! I introduce to this dimension the most fantastic expressive art the world has seen and this is what I have to show it on!" closer and closer she came. I tried desperately to hide myself somewhat behind Angelica. But inevitably Edna arrived at the end of the line and saw me in all my sleepy glory.

"What's _THIS?_" she cried. I opened my mouth to try and salvage my dignity, offer an explanation perhaps but was cut off. "You! What is your _name_?" I squared my head looked straight foreword and answered in as clear a voice as I could muster.

"Anzhelika Veruna. Ma'am." There was a moment of heart stopping silence. All the other girls looked on in fear, thanking their lucky stars that it wasn't them and I merely stood tall trying not to look at the woman below me. Finally she said,

"I like your style." I looked at her in surprise.

"Th-thank you!"

"Yes, it takes a certain kind of person to follow her impulses. As I always say, when you repress you depress, but to impress, you must _express_! Aha!" She laughed showing her huge teeth and her bespectacled eyes looked as enormous as records. "Yes. Veruna? Was it?" I nodded. "Good. Let us walk, I so much to inform you of Darling." The other girls watched in numb disbelief as I was led down the hall and out the double doors with E. Mode at my side. I could hardly believe it myself. But here I was, walking next to Edna Mode in my bathrobe and fuzzy slippers.

"… You really remind me of all of my… _exceptional_ clients of past days. You know, those were the daysofall of my best works. Yes you really remind me. In fact, I do believe I have seen you before." She dropped her voice to an oddly suspicious sounding tone "have you ever been on a fold out cover of Vogue?" After a few moments I realized that it was a direct question.

"Oh, no. Never."

"_Never?_" I shook my head. Edna Mode seemed put out for an entire millisecond then shrugged. "Well, _that_ is easily remedied. I like you Lika, there is something so very... _super_ about you."


End file.
